


Weekend in the Cotswalds

by hilandmum



Category: Rosemary and Thyme
Genre: Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilandmum/pseuds/hilandmum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura and Rosemary visit Laura's cousin, hoping for a quiet weekend in the country, perhaps with a bit of sightseeing. But as always, it turns into a bus-man's holiday where their knowledge of horticulture solves a crime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weekend in the Cotswalds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polkadot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadot/gifts).



> Hope this meets your request, polkadot

Weekend in the Cotswolds

“I didn't know you had a cousin Charlotte,” Rosemary eyes were trained on the road as they drove through the countryside.

“Technically, she's my second cousin once removed.” Laura's eyes narrowed. “Or is that first cousin twice removed? Whichever, we used to see each other at least once a year when we were kids, but I haven't heard from her in...it must be ten or fifteen years!” Her voice rose in surprise. “She was at my wedding, and I saw her a few times since, but she's been out of the country a lot.”

“And now she lives in the Cotswold Hills? I must say I've always loved this part of the country.” Rosemary surveyed the scenery ahead through the Land Rover's windscreen. 

“I am a little surprised. Charlotte was always a city person. She wrote me after my divorce from Nick, and that was the first I knew she was back in England.” Laura pointed to the right. “I believe that's the turn we want. Thurston Bramble.”

Rosemary skillfully maneuvered the off-road vehicle down the rutted lane. The manor house at the end was made of the typical golden stone found in the region. 

A forty-something woman ran down the front steps to meet them wearing country tweeds and brogues. As they exited the car, she grabbed the slim blond in a bear hug. “Laura! So good to see you after all these years.”

“I guess it's longer than I thought.” Laura couldn't hide her grin. “That woman you're squeezing the life out of is Rosemary Boxer. I'm your cousin, cousin.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” Charlotte shifted her embrace to the taller, heavier woman with the brown hair. “Of course you are. How stupid of me? Why, you look just as you did at your wedding.”

“Hardly,” Laura muttered under her breath, but there was no escaping Charlotte's clutches. Finally, she had to cut her off. “Who's that?” Laura pointed to a man pruning a hedgerow.

“Oh, that's the gardener, Morland. He sort of came with the house.” She waved a hand. “The previous owner hired him and he won't leave, says the plants need him or something. Well, come on in. What are you two doing lollygagging out here?”

Rosemary and Laura exchanged grins. They each took a bag from the boot and followed Charlotte into the house. As sunny as it was outside, Rosemary pulled her pink cardigan tighter to ward off the draught inside.

“I'd put you in separate rooms, but unfortunately, several aren't exactly ship-shape. I'm having the deuce of a time getting workmen out to repair anything.” Charlotte continued her non-stop expounding.

“That's quite alright. We often share a room when we're traveling.” Rosemary said in her raspy voice as she hefted her bag and they ascended the central staircase. 

Laura ran her hand along the curving banister, admiring the woodwork.

“Oh, do you travel together often?”

The two women had gotten that and similar questions often enough since they teamed up and tended to dismiss the inquiries.

The room Charlotte showed them to had two double beds and an en suite loo. The striped wallpaper and matching drapes spoke of a previous era. 

“Oh, this will do quite well,” Laura said. “Thank you Charlotte.” Laura lifted her bag to the luggage stand next to the bathroom door.

“Well, I'll leave you two to freshen up. Dinner's at six, that is if Mrs. Harding makes it here from the village in time to prepare anything.” Charlotte frowned momentarily, but her face brightened. “Worst comes to worst, we can have a fry up.” She was grinning as she closed the door.

Rosemary laughed. “She is quite a character. Was she always like that?” 

“Actually, Lottie used to be quite level-headed. I believe she earned an O-level in English or history or some such, unlike her dull-witted cousin here.”

“Laura, you're far from dull-witted. I wonder what changed your cousin.” She put her case on the bed and took out a couple of garments, looking around the room. Pulling open a door, she revealed a clothes closet with a couple of wire hangers inside. 

“Perhaps we'll learn more at dinner. But right now, I'm too hungry to think about it.”

“You can use the bathroom first. I think I'll unpack a bit. Now where is that guidebook I brought?”

Laura left her to find it while she freshened up in the bathroom with its claw-foot tub, porcelain pedestal sink, and towel stand. When she returned, still in her baggy traveling clothing, she found Rosemary sitting up on one of the beds, glasses on, intent on something in her book. 

“Laura, listen to this: there are several myths about the Cotswolds. Many are downright out of the realm of possibility. But the most persistent concerns the Rollright Stone circle.”

“What, faeries and such? You don't really believe in those things.”

“Well, no.” Rosemary removed her glasses and stood. “But we've both seen when beliefs persist, there's some truth behind them.” She walked past Laura and entered the bathroom.

Laura picked up the book and looked at it.

Rosemary returned from the bathroom. “It should be fun to explore the area around the stones. Even if it's all myth, what's the harm?”

“How far is that from here?” Laura thumbed through the book.

Rosemary took it back and found the page. “About twenty minutes drive.”

“On these roads?”

“Alright, perhaps an hour. It'll make a wonderful excursion for us tomorrow.” She took off her glasses.

“I did want to connect with Charlotte tomorrow.”

“So, we'll take her with us.”

“If she's willing.”

Rosemary put a place marker in the book and closed it. “This may turn out to be a good idea, visiting your cousin.”

“Of course it is. Right now, let's see what kind of spread she's laid on.”

They found Charlotte alone in the large kitchen with its few mod cons. Charlotte pulled her head out of the icebox long enough to say, “I'm afraid Mrs. Harding bugged out on us. Laura, could you hand me the skillet? There's a dear.”

The cast iron pan was heavier than Laura expected. “You weren't kidding about the plan to make us dinner.”

“You don't mind bacon and eggs, do you? Oh dear, you're not vegetarians, are you?”

Laura chuckled. “We've been accused of worse, but no.”

“Good. Because that's all I can find in here.” Charlotte motioned with a packet of bacon. “There's a loaf of bread in the cupboard, next to the biscuits and crock of butter.”

Rosemary took a seat at the painted wood table, and Laura joined her after finding everything Charlotte wanted. “We've been talking about an excursion tomorrow to the Rollright Stones.”

“Oh, I've been anxious to see them myself. Not that I believe in such things, mind.”

“Of course not. Neither do we.”

“But it'll be fun. A wonderful reason for a ride in the countryside.”

Charlotte's fry-up was better than the breakfast Rosemary and Laura ate that morning at a roadside cafe. “I don't think you need Mrs. Harding if this is how you cook.” Rosemary polished off her eggs.

“Why thank you! She's such a dear, Laura. Wherever did you find her?”

“It's a long story. Perhaps we'll tell you while we're here. But we travel and sometimes work together.”

“Oh? What do you do? You're not a copper, too, Rosemary, are you?”

“No. Laura isn't any more either, you know. We consult on people's gardens.”

“Rosemary is a former lecturer in horticulture and I tag along to do the heavy work.”

“Laura, that's not true! Charlotte, your cousin is a talented amateur gardener. She knows more than many of the students I used to teach.”

“Maybe while you're here, you can talk to Morland. I can't convince him to plant flowers. All he knows are hedges and shrubs.”

“Well, we'll certainly try, won't we, Laura?”

Laura looked up from her eggs. “Oh, of course. But what I want to know is why the devil you bought this place!”

“Oh, I didn't buy it. You remember my ex-husband?”

“Walter?”

“No, before him. Kevin.”

Laura shrugged and looked confused. 

“Maybe you never met him.” Charlotte dismissed him with a wave. “We were only married five minutes. But his family took a shine to me, especially his grandparents, and when they passed on, instead of leaving this place to him, they left it to me.”

“So they were the former owners. You said you wanted a change from the city.”

“Well, I did. Then I remembered I owned this place. Isn't it fantastic? Oh, it'll take lots of work to fix it up, but then I think I'll open a bed and breakfast.” She pointed to her plate. “At least I have the breakfast part down.”

They laughed. 

“Well, I for one am stuffed. And rather tired. Do you mind if we make it an early night?” Rosemary asked their hostess.

“Oh, not at all. It was a long drive out. Get some rest and we'll all be raring to go tomorrow.” Charlotte grinned at her. 

Rosemary and Laura helped her clear the table and then retired to their room. They took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. When Rosemary came out, Laura was already in her pajamas, as loose as all her other clothing, and rubbing hand cream into her palms.

“I do like your cousin,” Rosemary said. “I'm sure there's a story, maybe several, about her marriages.”

“And she won't hesitate to tell them.”

“In any event, we're in for an interesting time tomorrow.” She didn't know how interesting it would be. 

###

They woke in the morning to a shrill scream from below their window. Rosemary reached it first, throwing up the sash. She poked her head outside as Laura joined her. “What's wrong, Lottie?” Rosemary squinted at the woman, bent over something she couldn't see.

“It's...it's Morland. I'm afraid he's not moving.”

Laura had already pulled on her robe and rushed down the stairs. Rosemary following, her silk kimono not really enough to keep out the morning chill.

“Charlotte, please go back into the house,” Laura advised.

“What? Oh, yes. Of course.”

Laura called after her, “And ring the local constabulary.” She crouched by the body, checking for a pulse, and then for any breathing. Standing, she grimaced, and looked down the road. There was no one in sight. She noticed Rosemary stood watching her from the walkway. 

Rosemary frowned. “I guess we won't be going to see the Stones today.”

Laura shook her head. “You didn't hear anything, did you?”

“No. You know what a sound sleeper I am. But who could have done this? There wasn't anyone else in the house.”

“That we know of. You'd better go in and calm Charlotte.” Laura knew better than to disturb the scene, but looked around anyway for clues: a footprint, crumpled vegetation, something that might indicate how Morland was killed. And when. “Pity it didn't rain last night,” she muttered to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, a sedan came down the lane. It stopped twenty feed from where Laura stood over the body of the deceased gardener. The man who got out looked to be in his thirties with slightly long but neatly-combed dark-blond hair. His long frame was dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt. She wondered whether that passed for a uniform in this town.

But no. As he neared she saw the black bag in his left hand. He held the right out to her. “I'm Dr. Jeffers. Are you Mrs. Mattson's cousin?

Laura had to think a minute before she realized he was talking about Charlotte. “Yes, I am. Laura Thyme.”

“So, let's see what we have here.” He crouched over the body.

“Don't you want to wait until the coppers get here?”

“Peter Harding?” He grinned. “I probably know more about police work than he ever will.” He began his examination the same way Laura had. He ran his fingers over the man's skull and neck. “No lumps or bumps.”

“There's no blood, either.”

“You noticed.” The doctor chuckled.

“Did you know Mr. Morland?”

He stared at her. “You're starting to sound like a copper yourself.”

“Guilty. Or rather, I was one once. Gave it up a while back.”

The doctor stood up and closed his bag. “How long since you've seen Mrs. Mattson?”

“Years. I was divorced a couple of years ago and she invited me to visit. I didn't take her up on her invitation until this weekend, but we were free and looked forward to some time in the country.”

“We?”

“My partner and I.” She turned at the sound of footsteps coming from the house. “We arrived yesterday and Morland was hard at work, trimming those shrubs. Ah, here she is. Rosemary Boxer, meet Dr. Jeffers. I'm sorry I didn't get the first name?” She smiled at the doctor.

“Adam.” He smiled back.

“Doctor.” Rosemary held out a hand and smiled up at him. “I left Charlotte making breakfast. It'll calm her and keep her mind off the body.”

“Were the three of you the only ones here besides Morland last night?” The doctor looked to Laura to answer.

Rosemary shrugged. “As far as we know. What did you find?”

“No sign of a wound. My best guess without an autopsy would be poison.”

“Poison,” Laura said at the same time. “I noticed the blue lips. What do you know about his habits? Did he cook for himself? Have someone do it for him? Charlotte said he lived in the old carriage house.”

“I suppose he sometimes cooked for himself, but then again, he showed up at the Blue Boar at least once a week for a pint or two and a bowl of Ben's lamb stew.”

“I suppose we'll have to find out whether he was there last night.”

“What's today? Saturday? He always visits the tavern on Friday nights.”

Before they could speculate further, another car pulled in behind the doctor's. The driver got out first, a tall, lanky young man with dark hair. He waited for the other man, slightly shorter but beefier and older. They approached side-by-side.

“Morning Jeffers.” The shorter one nodded at the doctor.

“Peter. I haven't disturbed the body, but I did a preliminary examination. It looks like poison.”

“Poison?” Constable Harding's eyebrows rose. 

“Probably ingested over the last twenty-four hours. These women saw him trimming shrubs late yesterday afternoon.”

“About four, four thirty,” Laura supplied.

“You can check whether he showed up at the tavern last night, but my money's on him keeping to his usual schedule.”

“And you think he was poisoned there? What about them?” The cop aimed his chin at Laura and Rosemary.

“This is Laura Thyme, a former policewoman. And her friend. Rosemary, right?”

Rosemary nodded. “Rosemary Boxer. I'm a horticulturalist.”

“You are?” The doctor seemed surprised.

She grinned. “I used to teach at Uni, but now I'm consulted on gardens all over the country. And Laura helps. She's quite knowledgeable.”

The constable glared at her. “So why are you here? Until this morning, this place had a gardener.”

“Oh, I'm Charlotte Mattson's cousin.” Laura smiled at the scowling cop. “We're visiting.”

“Peter, instead of badgering these women, why don't you help me take Mr. Morland back to my surgery so I can do an autopsy and then you can start your investigation in town?”

Charlotte came down the stair from the front door and approach them. “Is he really dead?” 

Laura put an arm around her. “I'm afraid so, Lottie. We think he was poisoned, but Dr. Jeffers will determine the cause of death. And I expect Officer Harding will find out who the perpetrator was. Rosemary said you've been busy making us a delicious breakfast. What say we go get the feed bag on.” She urged her cousin back up the stairs and away from the body, hoping it would be gone when they left the house again.

Laura and Rosemary sat down at a table filled with toast, butter and jam, a coffeepot, teapot and china cups, a pitcher of milk, and a covered casserole that turned out to hold grilled ham, eggs and tomatoes.

“This is even better than last night.” Laura helped herself to food and tea. “I didn't know how hungry I was.”

“How can you eat? There's a dead man outside. You don't know how he was killed.”

“Once you've seen enough dead people, you learn to not let it put you off. Besides, everything looks and smells so good!” She lathered a piece of toast with honey and took a big bite.

“Charlotte, you'll find you feel better if you eat.” Rosemary took some eggs, then a piece of the ham.

Charlotte finally sat and poured herself some tea.

Laura filled a plate and placed it in front of her. “Eat. Everything's so good and you should enjoy it.”

Charlotte picked up her fork and pushed the eggs around. “How...how do they think it happened?” 

“He might have been poisoned down at the pub last night. Seems he always had stew and a pint there on a Friday night.”

Charlotte nodded. “He did. But who would have poisoned him?”

“Charlotte, did he have any enemies?”

“Morland? No. None I know about. He's been here forever, knows just about everyone in town. Never got into trouble, from what I've heard, but kept mostly to himself. Said the only thing he was good at was gardening.” She put a hand over her mouth. “The garden. What's to become of it? I'm no gardener.”

“No, but we are.” Rosemary flashed a smile. “We could prepare things so you can take care of it all yourself when we're gone.”

“But you're just here for the weekend, a kind of holiday.”

“A busman's holiday. The kind we tend to take.” Laura chuckled. “Charlotte. It won't be the first time.” She put a hand on her cousin's wrist, and then picked up her knife and fork. “Now, eat up. Before we start in on your grounds, you're going to take us into town for supplies and introduce us around.”

“I am?”

Rosemary winked. “You are.”

An hour later, breakfast was finished and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, the only concession to modern appliances in the ancient kitchen. The three women squeezed into the Land Rover and drove down the lane to the road into the town, which was like most of the other old villages in the Cottswalds.

Laura tapped Rosemary's shoulder. “I'd like to stop in at Dr. Jeffers surgery.”

“Do you think he'll know more about what killed Morland?” Rosemary asked. 

“I hope so. I don't have much faith in the constable getting to the bottom of this.”

“Laura, we're not here to solve a crime.” Rosemary grimaced.

“You won't be able to walk away either, will you?”

“I don't know what you two think you can do.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes. 

“Laura means we've solved a crime or two in the past.”

“More than that. And I don't mean when I was a copper. Rosemary and I have a knack, a talent. And we don't give up.” She looked pointedly at her friend.

Rosemary drove on without another word until they pulled into the town. “Which way to Dr. Jeffers surgery?” she asked Charlotte.

“It's down the High, on the left side of the road.”

They were able to find a place to park near the building housing the doctor's office and his residence.

“How long has Jeffers practiced here?” Laura wondered about the young man.

“From what I've been told, old Dr. Sanders brought him in straight out of school. That was, oh, almost ten years ago. Sanders retired four years ago, moved to Bournemouth. Before my time, of course.”

Jeffers met them at the door. “I wondered how long it would be until you showed up.” The smile on his face revealed his amusement.

“What did you find? What killed him?”

“You get right to the point, don't you?”

“Too many years on the force.” Rosemary smirked at Laura.

“I'm sure we all want to know. So?”

“It was definitely poison. A fast-acting poison.”

“Which one?” Laura wouldn't let up.

“I believe it was aconite.”

“But that's untraceable.” Laura thought briefly. “So he died of asphyxiation?”

Jeffers nodded. “Seems you know your poisons.”

“If it was aconite, it's possible it wasn't in his food.” Laura shrugged. “As a gardener, he might have touched some monkshood. It would be absorbed by his bare skin.”

Laura's eyes narrowed. “But there isn't any on the property.” 

“How do you know?” Rosemary asked.

Eyebrows raised, Laura countered, “Did you see any?” 

“No, but we haven't been everywhere on the grounds,” Rosemary pointed out.

“We know where he was working yesterday afternoon. And then, according to you, Doctor, he had dinner in town.” Laura rubbed her chin. “We found him near the shrubs he was trimming when we arrived.” 

Rosemary rubbed her forehead. “I'd like to examine the grounds around his house. Perhaps there's some monkshood growing nearby.”

“You'd recognize it?” Charlotte asked.

“I used to lecture on plant pathology at university.” Rosemary's raspy voice took on the tone she perfected in that job. “Laura's right. We have to find the plant that was used to poison him, either intentionally or accidentally.”

“So, what are we waiting for?” Laura already had her hand on the doorknob.

“You're not going without me,” Jeffers said, grabbing his medical bag.

“What about me?” Charlotte followed the three of them out, stopping only to pull the door closed behind them. 

They all squeezed into the Land Rover and drove back to the house, but stopped at the small building near the entrance to the lane.

“Has Morland lived here for long?” Laura asked, exiting the car and strolling toward the side of the house.

“For quite some time.” Jeffers examined the neat flowerbeds closest to the door. “I'm afraid I don't know a geranium from a petunia.”

“Strange.” Rosemary put on her glasses as she bent to look at the plants.

“What is?” he asked. 

“He insisted on growing shrubs near the main house, but here, he has some heirloom varieties of beautiful flowers.”

Laura came around the house. “Rosemary, did you see the lupines? Their magnificent!”

“They couldn't be more so than the asters.” Rosemary grinned. “But I don't see any monkshood.”

“So if there isn't any near the house, and none here, where did it come from?” Charlotte asked.

“I'm afraid we'll have to return to town. The answer may still be at the tavern.” Laura led the way back to the vehicle and they reversed direction. They parked in front of the wooden sign of a strangely colored swine. The Blue Boar was the only pub in the village, and was crowded even in the middle of the day. 

When they entered, a man with a full white apron over a plaid shirt looked up from wiping down the long mahogany bar. “Jeffers, ladies. What'll it be?”

“Pint of bitters,” Rosemary promptly ordered.

Laura nodded. “Make that two.” She looked around the smoke-filled room. The smoking bans of the big city pubs wasn't in effect here.

“Has the constable been in yet, Ben?” Jeffers asked.

The barkeep shook his head as he drew the drinks. “Why should he be?”

“You haven't heard about old Morland?”

“What about him?” Ben brought the drinks to Laura and Rosemary who'd taken seats at a nearby table.

Jeffers lowered his voice. “He's dead.”

“Poor sod. But why would Peter come here? Shouldn't he be investigating the scene of the crime?”

“How do you know it was murder?” Laura asked. 

Ben shrugged. “Guess I assumed, being as Peter's involved.”

She sipped the foam off her pint. “I understand he had his dinner here last night.” 

“Oh, aye. Twas his habit, ya see. Every Friday. Sometimes Tuesdays.”

“And you made the stew he ate?” Rosemary asked.

“Well, ya see, not last night. No. Had my hands full. The lads were all riled up over the match.” He pointed to the TV and the men crowded around it, cheering on a team. “Last night was worse than now, if you can believe it.”

“So who made the stew.”

“Why, Mrs. Harding, of course.” He went back to wiping the bar. “She comes in sometimes to help out with the food.”

“That's why she didn't show up at the manor house last night.” Laura scratched an ear. “Tell me, Ben, you wouldn't have any of that stew left, now, would you?”

“Nah. I never keep cooked food overnight.”

“What do you do with it?”

“I dump it down the sink.”

“Did anyone complain about it making them sick?” Rosemary sipped her brew.

Ben shook his head. “Then again, I don't think we had more 'n eight dinner customers last night.”

The doctor threw in his own question. “Do you know who they were?” 

Ben gave them a list.

“Thanks, Ben.” The doctor stood. “Coming?” He looked at Laura and Rosemary.

“Just a sec.” Laura drained her mug.

“What are we going to do next?” Charlotte asked.

Laura waved the list Ben gave them. “We'll check the people on the list to ensure none of them are sick.”

“You think it was accidental?” The doctor squinted at her. 

“We can't assume anything right now. Now, how do we find Mrs. Benson?”

They went through the list, but none of the other diners were sick. The last on the list was Jeremy Cathcart, Peter Harding's deputy, the tall young man who hadn't said a word when the constable came to see the body at the manor house.

“Morland was at the table next to mine. Seemed to be enjoying his meal.”

“And it definitely was the same stew you had?” Rosemary asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Mrs. Harding brought ours out at the same time.”

“I think it's time to have a chat to Mrs. Harding.” Laura folded the list they were finished with.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “The constable's wife? She only cooked the stew.” 

“But she's the only one with the opportunity to doctor it with aconite.” Rosemary sighed. “Of course, whatever could her reason be?”

“So you're saying we have to learn her motive.” Jeffers rubbed his chin.

Laura nodded. “And where would she get the poison? Let's go talk to her.”

They found Ella Harding in her herb garden, behind her house. Laura and Rosemary exchanged raised brows.

Rosemary examined some oregano plants. “Mrs. Harding, I understand you made the stew for Ben down at the pub last night. Did you use any of your herbs in it?” Her eyes scanned the plot.

“Of course, what's stew without herbs?” She pronounced the 'h'.

“I don't see any monkshood here.” Rosemary waved a hand. The deep green leaves and stalks of hood-like violet, blue or pink flowers were completely absent.

Mrs. Harding was aghast. “Why who'd want that in their garden? That's...that's POISON!” she sputtered.

“Do you know whether there's any growing in the area?” Laura asked.

The cook and gardener shook her head. 

“You served Mr. Morland last night, didn't you?”

“Peter told me what happened to him. Pity, too. I brought out two bowls at the same time, one for Peter's deputy, Jeremy, and t'other for Morland.” She paused and closed her eyes as if to recollect what happened. “You know, I think Ben called me back to the kitchen, and I put both down on Jeremy's table.” She shrugged. “He musta given one to Morland.”

“So, Jeremy Cathcart gave Morland his bowl.” Laura's eyes narrowed.

“I s'pose.”

“That's not what Cathcart told us.”

“But why would he lie?” the doctor asked.

“Why, indeed.” Laura frowned.

“Shall we have another word with officer Cathcart?” Rosemary was already on her way to the Range Rover.

Laura, Charlotte and Jeffers followed with a bewildered Ella Harding watching.

Cathcart was in the constabulary, looking at a computer screen. He frowned when they trooped in. “Was there something else?”

“Ella Harding told us she left both bowls of stew on your table. Did you give Morland his?”

Cathcart swallowed, but rather than answer the question, asked his own. “Do you think I had something to do with his death? What would be my motive?”

“You tell us.” Laura walked closer, toward one side of him.

Rosemary strolled to his other side. “I asked a simple question. Either you gave him the stew or you didn't.”

“Well, yes, I suppose I did. But how do you know that's what poisoned him?”

“I assume your boss told you he was poisoned.”

“Yes, yes he did.”

“Tell me, Jeremy, do you know of anyone who grows monkshood nearby?”

“Isn't that...” He cleared his throat. “No, Ma'am, I don't.”

Peter Harding entered his office and was taken aback by the number of people inside.

“Constable, we met at Charlotte's earlier. Laura Thyme.”

He frowned. “I know who you are, but not what you're doing here.” 

“Your wife told us that she served Jeremy and Morland at the same time last night,” Rosemary said. “We had some questions for him.”

Harding pointed a thumb at his chest. “I'm the one investigating this death. You have no right bothering my wife and my deputy.”

“We also came to give you additional information.” Jeffers' voice was conciliatory, but Harding wouldn't have it. 

“You already gave me your autopsy results.”

Jeffers shook his head. “I hadn't confirmed what poison was involved. It was aconite. Derived from monkshood. Ever seen any, constable?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“That's what I told them, sir.”

“Wait a minute.” Harding rubbed his chin. “Didn't your Gran used to grow strange things in that garden of hers, Jeremy?”

“But surely not poisons.” Jeremy was becoming paler by the minute.

“What was your relationship with Morland?” Rosemary asked him.

“Relationship?” He swallowed loudly.

Harding sneered. “Jeremy, why are you being so uncooperative?” He turned to the rest. “There was no relationship between 'em. They hardly knew each other.”

“Oh, but that's wrong.” Charlotte had been quiet until then. “Jeremy, tell them why you spent so much time at Morland's place.”

###

That evening, Mrs. Harding showed up at the house and cooked for Charlotte and her guests. The fish and vegetables she prepared showed how well she used the herbs from her garden. 

“So Jeremy poisoned Morland?” Rosemary asked Laura. 

“It was easy for him. He knew more about plants than he let on,” Laura said. “Jeffers told me he finally confessed that he provided heirloom plants for Morland's cottage garden.”

“All those beautiful flowers!”

“Jeremy got them from his grandmother's garden, and Morland paid him for them. But for some reason, they argued about the plants and the price.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I can't believe he'd kill someone over some flowers.”

“They're not just 'some flowers'.” Rosemary glanced at Laura before continuing. “Charlotte, before we leave, would you like us to put in flower beds for you in place of some of your shrubs?”

“Oh, Rosemary, that would be wonderful.” Charlotte beamed.

“And then we can finally have our outing to the Rollright Stones.” 

###


End file.
